


There’s Evil in the Air and Thunder in the Sky

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Series: Trials and Tribulations of a Nine-Tailed Fox [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Naruto
Genre: AU, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Crack, F/F, Female Harry Potter, Humanity is contagious, Kyuubi has FEELINGS and no idea what to do about them, Kyuubi has learned slightly more chill than in the first fic - but not much, Tags to be added, This fic is a sequel, Time Period: 1990s, Unrepentant crack, Updates Sporadically, except that she's actually the Kyuubi no Kitsune trapped in human form, human!Kyuubi, read the other fic first, very sporadically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: With some kind of magical tournament going on and Kyuubi receiving visions of Voldemort thanks to the suddenly-active magic and chakra leech in her forehead, it looked like once again, this year was going to beinteresting.





	1. The Past Two Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Updates on this one may be sporadic, as real life is being annoying at the moment. But I'll try to update when I can._
> 
>  
> 
> _This fic is going to be Kyuubi/Hermione. When I polled you guys, some of you said that I should leave the series gen, some said I should ship it, and others said that it's my story so I should do as I like with it. Given the diversity of responses that I got, I decided to do as I like, and make this fic Kyuubi/Hermione. (Well, more or less.)_
> 
> _Since they're only about fourteen and Kyuubi is not exactly in-touch with her softer feelings (not to mention, not really human, and therefore experiencing her emotions somewhat differently than others), it probably won't be super-shippy. But that element will be in there, somewhere._

** There’s Evil in the Air and Thunder in the Sky **

** Chapter One **

It had been three years since Kyuubi had started at Hogwarts, and here she was, beginning her fourth year.

Her second and third years had been eventful, just as her first year had been. In second year, a giant snake – a basilisk – had been making its way around the school under the control of the self-proclaimed ‘Heir of Slytherin,’ and petrifying the muggleborn students. In the absence of any actual knowledge of the Heir, most of the school had looked at Kyuubi – Sorted into Slytherin, tiny yet terrifying, and prone to violence – and decided she had to be the culprit. Kyuubi had been rather flattered at first, but although she hid her fear well Granger had been scared of the unknown Heir and the mysterious monster, afraid that she would be the next to be attacked. Reluctantly Kyuubi had assisted her in trying to research Slytherin’s monster and his Heir, but hadn’t really cared about the random muggleborn petrifications that were occurring.

Then Granger had been petrified, and Kyuubi had found a reason to care. Abruptly, she’d found all the speculation that she was the Heir irritating in the extreme. When Malfoy had, against all common sense, congratulated her on _seeing sense and finally getting rid of the mudblood girl_ , Kyuubi’s response had left him in the hospital wing. No one, not even Malfoy, dared tell the professors that it was Kyuubi who had put him there.

That evening at dinner Kyuubi had climbed onto the Slytherin table and informed the Great Hall at immense volume that she was not the Heir of Slytherin, that she couldn’t care less about whether someone came from a magical family or a muggle one, and that anyone who insinuated that she did was going to regret it.

“And when I find out which one of you petrified Granger, I’m going to rip out your spleen and make you _eat_ it!” Kyuubi had roared while radiating killer intent, and had stomped her foot so hard that the Slytherin table was cracked in two. She’d climbed down from the ruined table and stomped out of the Great Hall, leaving agitated murmurs behind her.

Thanks to the note Granger had left behind before she was petrified, Kyuubi had been able to put two and two together, and deduced the location of the fabled Chamber of Secrets. From there, it had been easy to work out how to get in, and she’d come face to face with one Tom Riddle, who had been possessing a red-headed first-year girl.

Kyuubi had seen immediately that the boy was the same kind of magical leech as the one in her scar, except that Riddle was active, and dangerously so. He’d drained the Weasley girl of so much magic and chakra that she was barely clinging to life. Riddle had explained, smiling in cruel amusement the entire time, that he’d come in the guise of a trusted confidant, and that Weasley had poured out all her secrets and worries into the diary that had contained him. She’d poured her heart and soul into the little black book, unknowingly giving Riddle an invitation to possess her.

Kyuubi had used shadow clones to try and take Riddle down, but he’d called down Slytherin’s monster, the basilisk itself. Kyuubi had responded by summoning twice as many shadow clones as before, and followed this up by using a Fire Release Technique to send billowing flames shooting from her mouth. The basilisk had been blinded by the flames, and Kyuubi and her clones had swarmed the massive beast. Kyuubi had tried punching it, but to her astonishment, the basilisk’s ancient hide was resistant even to her chakra-enhanced force.

In the end, Kyuubi had dodged around the basilisk, leaving her clones to fight it, and grabbed the innocuous little black book that Riddle had helpfully informed her was his container. Kyuubi would have known even if he hadn’t, however, as the book’s aura reeked of _wrongness_ , the same kind as Quirrell’s magical leech had in first year.

The basilisk had reared up above Kyuubi then, opening its mouth to reveal long, sharp fangs – and acting purely on instinct, Kyuubi had impaled the book on the nearest fang and made a run for it.

Riddle had dissolved into smoke, screaming, while the basilisk twisted and writhed, trying to dislodge the book skewered on its fang. While it was distracted Kyuubi and her shadow clones had grabbed the unconscious Weasley girl and sprinted for the Chamber entrance. They’d sealed the door behind them, and put the Weasley girl down as she’d begun to stir. Kyuubi dispelled her clones just as Weasley had opened her eyes. 

The girl had promptly burst into tears and sobbed out a story that essentially matched the one that Riddle had told, down in the Chamber. 

“Shut up, it wasn’t your fault,” Kyuubi had said, her low growl startling Weasley into silence. “He betrayed your trust and used you. Next time you’ll know better. Now come on, the professors are probably looking for us.”

Kyuubi had gone straight to the Headmaster’s office, dragging Weasley behind her, and interrupted what had no doubt been a very sombre and tearful meeting between Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Weasley’s parents with the words, “Slytherin’s Heir is gone, and the Weasley girl is fine.”

Weasley’s mother had pulled a crying Weasley into her arms and wept all over her, while McGonagall had tried to demand an explanation. Then Weasley’s mother had pulled _Kyuubi_ into a hug before Kyuubi could escape, tearfully thanking Kyuubi for saving her daughter.

It had been Dumbledore who had called for order and calmly asked for an explanation of what had occurred, his eyes twinkling with good-humour. So Kyuubi had explained in as brief terms as possible what had happened, leaving out her use of chakra techniques.

She’d earned a hundred points for Slytherin with her actions, but the real reward had been when Granger had been restored from her petrified state, and had hesitantly asked, “Harriet... did you go after the Heir of Slytherin... for _me?_ ”

“Of course,” Kyuubi had said. “You’re my friend.”

It was the first time she had admitted it. Granger had burst into tears and thrown her arms around Kyuubi, who had awkwardly patted her on the back in response, basking in the physical contact.

Third year, in its’ own way, had been even worse than second year. Funnily enough, it wasn’t the Dementors patrolling the school which caused Kyuubi grief, unlike the rest of the students. The Dementors seemed to sense Kyuubi’s malevolent chakra and stayed well away from her; in all the time they patrolled the school grounds, Kyuubi never once encountered one. So no, it wasn’t the Dementors that caused the problem. It was the other things.

First of all, there had been ‘Uncle Moony,’ aka Remus Lupin, who had turned up alive and more-or-less well after abandoning Kyuubi for the last twelve years. So what if he had turned out to be a werewolf? Living with a werewolf would have been preferable to living with the Dursleys. Failing that, the occasional visit to make sure that Kyuubi was okay and in good health would have been appreciated. But no – Lupin had simply disappeared from her life for twelve years.

Kyuubi had responded to his appointment as the Defense Professor by pretending that he didn’t exist, even in class, acting like she couldn’t hear him when he called on her in class to answer questions. Let him see how _he_ liked being ignored. 

(The only time she’d done as he asked was when they were asked to line up and face a boggart one by one, because she was curious to see what would happen. The form her boggart took turned out to be her in human form, smiling and laughing and chattering on like a normal little girl. Kyuubi had, of course, promptly punched the boggart in the face. Everyone else had, to say the least, been rather confused and disturbed.) 

Kyuubi had pretended that Lupin didn’t exist for the entire school year, right up until the showdown with ‘Uncle Padfoot,’ otherwise known as wanted criminal Sirius Black.

Kyuubi had grabbed him by the collar on sight and snarled out, “You have one minute to explain why you betrayed my parents before I kill you,” because by this point, she’d become well-informed of Black’s crimes thanks to the _Daily Prophet_.

Black had only looked at her – a tiny version of Lily Potter, acting like wrath personified – with wet eyes, and said quietly, “Peter was their Secret Keeper. We switched. I didn’t betray your parents – but I might as well have.”

“Explain,” Kyuubi had said, shaking him. Just then Lupin had come rushing in, and Black had repeated what he’d said to Kyuubi, the thing about Secret Keepers which made absolutely no sense, and the two men had ended up having a heartfelt reunion.

“One of you _explain_ ,” Kyuubi had demanded, her killing intent rising. Lupin, as usual, was strangely immune – part of being a werewolf, probably – while Black had only stared at Kyuubi with an expression that suggested he didn’t feel her killer intent because he felt dead inside. 

It was Lupin who had explained, his tone of voice strangely detached, about the spell that the Potters had used to keep themselves safe. No one could find them as long as their Secret Keeper refused to divulge their location.

“I said that they should use Peter,” Black had said, his face twisting at the memory. “Because who would ever suspect _him_ of being the Secret Keeper? It was a brilliant move, I thought.”

“You didn’t know,” said Lupin, his voice quiet. 

“I as good as killed them,” said Black, and his face was haggard in the fading light of twilight.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kyuubi had snapped, and both men had turned towards her in surprise. “You did the best you could on incomplete information. There’s no point in beating yourself up about it. Just one question: why did you come to Hogwarts once you escaped?”

Some part of Kyuubi had held some tiny, fragile hope that it was because of her – that Black wanted to see her alive, safe and well. But Black instead had snarled, “ _Wormtail_. He’s here, masquerading as someone’s pet rat. I’m going to kill him.”

Kyuubi nodded, even as the fragile hope in her heart sputtered and died at his answer. All the same, she understood his need for vengeance. Lily and James had been her _parents_ , after all.

She turned from Black to Lupin, one eye on the fading light around them.

“Lupin. Did you take whatever medicine keeps you safe around the students?”

Lupin blinked, obviously shocked that she knew he was a werewolf, and then the blood drained from his face.

“No...” he said hoarsely. “I forgot...”

It took Black a second to follow the change in discussion, but then he said urgently, “Harriet, you need to get out of here, it’s not safe–”

“Tell me, first,” said Kyuubi. “How do I identify Pettigrew?”

“He’s missing a toe on his front left paw,” said Black quickly. “But you can’t go after him, he’s dangerous–”

“So am I,” said Kyuubi, and turned on her heel and strode away.

It took some asking around, but Kyuubi had discovered that the Weasley boy in her year had a pet rat. After thinking things through, she had waited until she saw the Weasley girl heading down to dinner in the Great Hall, and pulled her aside into the nearest empty corridor.

“Weasley,” she’d said, her voice low and intense. “I need your help.”

Weasley’s eyes had widened, but she’d immediately said, “What do you need?”

“Your brother’s rat. I need you to bring it to me.”

Weasley had frowned. 

“Why?” she asked slowly, torn between helping the person who had saved her life, and loyalty to her brother.

“It’s a disguised animagus,” Kyuubi said bluntly, and Weasley blanched.

“Right then. That’s a good answer,” she said, a tremble in her voice. “Shouldn’t we tell the teachers?”

Kyuubi scowled.

“I’ll give them the rat once I have him, but I don’t trust them to take me seriously without proof. If they mess this up, one of the Death Eaters who hurt my family will go free,” she said, and Weasley blanched further.

“Scabbers is a _Death Eater?_ Is he dangerous?”

Kyuubi smiled darkly.

“If cornered? Probably. But I don’t trust anyone else to do this, Weasley.”

There was no point in asking Granger. Even if she hadn’t objected to the idea, everyone knew that she and the Weasley boy didn’t get on. There was no way she could get close enough to steal Wormtail from him.

Weasley had straightened a little at that, and a determined light appeared in her eyes.

“What do I need to do?”

Kyuubi had given her the outline of a plan, and Weasley had nodded, and run off to fulfil the mission Kyuubi had given her.

Twenty minutes later, a nervous-looking Weasley had met Kyuubi outside the abandoned classroom next to the statue of Haldred the Horrible, and pulled a rat out of her pocket. It was stiff and frozen, the victim of a Full Body-Bind spell.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” Kyuubi had immediately said, aiming her wand at the rat.

It was an advanced spell for someone her age, but like Granger, she’d been reading ahead. The red light from her wand splashed over the rat, and its frantically-moving eyes closed.

“Nice work, Weasley,” Kyuubi said, and Weasley had looked pleased for a second before the worried look came back.

“What are you going to do?” Weasley asked.

“Take him to McGonagall,” said Kyuubi, and she went off to do just that.

McGonagall had clearly been humouring Kyuubi when she cast the spell that would turn Wormtail from a rat back into a person, but when Peter Pettigrew had appeared on her office floor, unconscious but alive, she’d immediately fetched the Headmaster. 

Dumbledore had called in the Aurors, and that should have been that. But one of the junior Aurors had bungled things, and Pettigrew had regained consciousness and promptly turned back into a rat, escaping down the nearest hallway and disappearing to who knew where.

Kyuubi had howled out her rage and threatened to eviscerate the bungling Auror, but the damage was done. Pettigrew had gotten away, and without him, there was no chance of proving Black innocent, or avenging Kyuubi’s parents.

Lupin had quit as the Defence professor the next day. After spending the night running around the school grounds in full werewolf form, he’d decided that he was too much of a danger to be around children any longer. Snape hadn’t made things any better by informing the students that their Defence professor was a werewolf. 

Kyuubi had found Lupin in his office, packing his things.

“You’re just leaving? Again?”

Lupin went still.

“Again?” He repeated the word carefully, his gaze intent.

Kyuubi glared, but since he apparently needed it spelled out for him, she did so. 

“You already walked out on me once, _Uncle Moony_. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that you’re willing to walk out on me a second time.”

Lupin stared at her. Then:

“Harriet, you know that I’m a werewolf–”

“You could have _visited!_ ” Kyuubi bellowed. “Maybe you couldn’t have taken me in, but you could have done something about my relatives’ abuse! You could have made sure I didn’t grow up without one person in the world who cared about me!”

Lupin looked stunned and shaken.

“Harriet...” he said, and stopped, like he didn’t know what to say.

“It doesn’t matter now,” said Kyuubi, her voice hard and angry. “You proved that you didn’t care when it mattered. I can take care of myself now. But you ignored my existence for twelve years. Don’t think that I’ll ever forget that.”

“That’s why you were ignoring me in class all year,” said Lupin slowly, like he was only just getting it. He looked crushed.

“Goodbye, Lupin,” said Kyuubi, and left his office before he could try and defend his actions.

After that, Kyuubi had gone to hunt down Black – mostly by walking around the grounds, calling “Padfoot!” until a large black dog had appeared.

“We need to talk,” said Kyuubi, and led him just inside edges of the Forbidden Forest where no one else could see them.

Kyuubi explained, then, what had happened the previous evening: her attempts to secure justice for both her parents and Black, and the way it had failed. Black stayed a dog while she was explaining, but finally, when she was done, he turned back into a person.

“So Wormtail’s gone,” he said, his voice flat.

Kyuubi nodded, her hands clenching into fists.

“You should have brought him to me,” said Black, his voice harsh. “Now that he knows he’s exposed, I’ll never find him again.”

Kyuubi took a deep breath, and said words that she’d never thought she’d say. She even meant them.

“I’m sorry.” 

Black had been staring into the middle-distance, his mind clearly not in the here and now, but at Kyuubi’s words he brought his gaze back to focus on her. After a moment, his gaze softened.

“It’s not your fault. You were trying to help.”

“You need to leave the country,” said Kyuubi. “Get as far away from Britain as you can. It’s too dangerous for you to stay here.”

Black had looked at her for a long moment. He looked like there was something he desperately wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the words to say it. Finally, he said, “I’ll send you an owl, when I can. I want... I want to know how you’re doing. Let me know if you’re ever in trouble.”

Kyuubi swallowed.

“You should get going,” was all that she had said.

Third had definitely been an eventful year, just like second year. And now it seemed like things were kicking off again, because not long before Kyuubi had returned to Hogwarts for her fourth year, the leech in her scar had suddenly become active and Kyuubi had dreamed of Voldemort.

He’d had a body – of sorts – and Pettigrew had been attending to him. Kyuubi had awoken in a rage, but there was nothing she could do: she had no idea where the two of them were. It wasn’t as though she could simply search out every manor house in England on the chance that Voldemort and Wormtail might still be hiding out there, somewhere. Kyuubi had to wait until they raised their heads before she could crush them, wherever they were.

Now, she walked out of the pouring rain and into the comparative warmth of Hogwarts’ Entrance Hall, glad to be away from the Dursleys again and back where she almost belonged. It was nearly enough to make her feel sentimental. 

Nearly.

_ “Ugh!”  _

Next to Kyuubi, Granger spluttered as a water balloon burst over her head, leaving her even more soaked than she had been already. Kyuubi looked up, and opened her mouth.

“PEEVES!”

Peeves realised, too late, who his latest target had been. He blanched.

“Peeves is very sorry, your terribleness!” he called out, and went zooming away into the Great Hall before Kyuubi could make him regret drenching her friend.

Kyuubi looked back at Granger, who was muttering imprecations and trying to wring out her hair, which was dripping on the flagstones.

Kyuubi pulled out her wand, and muttered the Hot Air Charm.

Granger sighed as warm air gusted out from Kyuubi’s wand, blowing over her skin and drying her wet hair and robes.

“Thanks,” said Granger, brushing wet hair away from her face. “Peeves... honestly, I don’t know why they haven’t banished him from the castle. Surely _one_ of the professors must be capable of doing it.”

“A poltergeist powered by the subconscious magic of hundreds of adolescents?” Kyuubi snorted. “I doubt it.”

Together, Kyuubi and Granger made their way into the Great Hall, taking a seat at their respective house tables. 

Kyuubi waited impatiently for the Sorting to begin. The sooner it was over, the sooner the beginning-of-term feast would appear. She was looking forward to eating the glazed ham that was usually provided.

As usual, her housemates gave her a wide berth. The only ones who dared sit next to her were the newly-Sorted first years, who weren’t yet aware of Kyuubi’s reputation.

Finally, the Sorting ended, and Dumbledore stood up to make his usual beginning-of-term address. Kyuubi wasn’t paying much attention, until the phrase ‘ _the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year’_ caught her ears.

Kyuubi blinked, and looked around to see if she’d heard correctly. A sea of appalled faces met her eyes. Flint, who after failing his final exams had returned to repeat his final year (so that he could spend an extra year as Quidditch captain, if rumour was to be believed) looked somewhere between murderous and devastated.

Apparently oblivious to the mood of the Great Hall, Dumbledore resumed his speech.

He was only a few words in when the Great Hall doors banged open.

All over the hall, heads swivelled to look at the new arrival. There was a man standing in the doorway, leaning on a long staff. As the students stared, the man began to walk up towards the head table. With every second step a dull clunk echoed through the Great Hall, as his crudely-made prosthetic leg hit the flagstones. As the man neared the head table, Kyuubi saw that his face was heavily scarred. Moreover, while one of his eyes was perfectly ordinary in its appearance and behaviour, the other was vivid electric-blue in colour, and rolling unceasingly in all directions. It was, undoubtedly, a magical eye.

Kyuubi watched the man as he stopped in front of the head table. The other students were doubtless starring because of the man’s appearance, but Kyuubi’s gaze had sharpened at the way he moved – because this man, whoever he was, moved like a shinobi. Not silently, as most shinobi did – his prosthetic leg made that difficult – but with calculated, self-aware movements. The only other wizard Kyuubi had ever seen move in quite that way was Dumbledore, and he did his best to hide it. 

This wizard didn’t.

“May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” said Dumbledore into the silence, with rather more cheerfulness than seemed warranted. “Professor Moody.”

A mutter went up around Kyuubi, as the other Slytherins began to ask things like:

“Mad-Eye Moody?” 

“The Auror?”

“ _That_ Moody?”

“He put my uncle in Azkaban,” muttered one of the seventh years, eyeing the new professor with hatred.

Moody didn’t seem to care about the whispers and stares that had erupted all over the hall, nor the palpable dislike emanating from the Slytherin table. He seated himself at the head table with the other teachers, and took a swig from the flask at his hip.

In spite of herself, Kyuubi’s interest was caught. The previous Defence professors hadn’t exactly been the best – first there’d been Quirrell, then the professor who had been called in to replace him for the rest of the school year after his death, then Lockhart (who, after he’d been exposed to Kyuubi’s killing intent a few times, had mostly left her alone) and of course Lupin, who had focused on defence against magical creatures and hadn’t really delved much into defence against other witches and wizards.

But if her impression of Moody was correct, this was a man who was skilled at duelling – and not sanitised competitive duels bound by rules of ‘civilised’ behaviour, but the real thing, where the aim was to put the other person out of commission no matter what it took.

Kyuubi found herself grinning. The first-years sitting next to her tried to edge away further down the long bench they were sitting on, eying her nervously.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“As I was saying, we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” 

The outburst came from one of the Troublesome Twins from Gryffindor. Kyuubi had run into them a number of times; they appeared to consider her something between a role model and a rival in the trouble-making department. Kyuubi had no idea why humans kept deciding she was their rival – it had been bad enough with Granger, even if the two of them were more friends than rivals, these days – but it was highly irritating.

The others students sniggered at the interruption. Dumbledore only smiled, and proceeded to explain the point of the Tournament. Two other schools besides Hogwarts would be competing: Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Kyuubi had never heard of either of them.

Flint did not appear at all consoled by the fact that Quidditch would be replaced by an event as momentous as the Triwizard Tournament. Rather, he looked ready to punch the first person who sounded enthused about it. 

Kyuubi, for her part, was looking forward to watching schoolchildren risk life and limb for the sake of fame and fortune. It looked like this year, once again, things were going to be _interesting_ – and hopefully, in a more positive fashion than previous years.


	2. September to October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for an update, guys! Life has been... hectic.

** Chapter Two **

By the end of her first few lessons with him, Kyuubi had decided that while he might nominally be on the side of ‘good,’ Moody was definitely the most sadistic teacher she’d ever had.

In his first lesson, he demonstrated the Unforgiveable Curses on a jar filled with some unfortunate spiders. He started off by using the Imperius Curse on one of the spiders, forcing it to tap-dance across his desk.

Any other group might have laughed at the display, but this was a class full of Slytherins. Many of them had relatives that Moody either had killed in battle or put away in Azkaban, and all of them interpreted Moody’s use of the Unforgiveables as a threat. The class sat in stiff silence as they watched the spider dance, helpless against the magic controlling it. Moody watched the class in turn, and there was what looked like grim satisfaction in his face as not a single titter or giggle escaped the students in front of him. 

“Total control,” said Moody quietly. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats...”

Everyone sat very still, even Malfoy, who looked paler than usual. Rumour had that it he’d tried to curse the Weasley boy who was in their year, and Moody had transfigured him into a ferret as punishment. Even Malfoy knew that he’d run into someone against whom threats of _my father will hear of this_ would be completely ineffective, and that the best move was to try and evade notice from the infamous dark wizard catcher.

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse – although some of you would know that better than others,” he added darkly, eying some of Kyuubi’s classmates in particular. Kyuubi knew that those students had relatives who were either suspected or proven Death Eaters.

The students he looked at glared back, but didn’t dare retaliate in any way. From what Kyuubi had overheard from her housemates’ conversations, Moody was a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ sort of person. He certainly acted like it.

“Does anyone know of any of the other Unforgiveable Curses?” Moody asked. No one said a word.

Finally, Kyuubi raised her hand. Moody’s normal eye came to rest on her, and he nodded.

“The Killing Curse,” said Kyuubi, scowling. 

“The worst of the lot,” said Moody, smiling at Kyuubi in grim approval. He levelled his wand at the spider scuttling across his desk. “ _Avada Kedavra_.”

There was a flash of blinding green light, a rushing sound – and the spider rolled onto its back, its leg curling inwards. It was unmistakeably dead.

Some of the students looked horrified. One or two looked unwillingly fascinated. Most of them, however, kept their expressions carefully neutral, even though Kyuubi could tell that they were shaken.

“Not nice,” said Moody gruffly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no counter-curse. There’s no blocking it. Only one person has ever survived it, and she’s sitting right in front of me.”

Moody looked at Kyuubi, and the rest of the class did the same. Some of them looked impressed, others afraid, as though for the first time the import of Kyuubi’s survival against the Killing Curse was really sinking in. It was one thing to know intellectually how the curse worked, but to see it in action, and know that somehow Kyuubi had survived it... that was something else. 

Kyuubi glowered at them all, trying to ignore the fact that seeing the Killing Curse performed on the spider had triggered the memory of Lily’s death, and that moment was now playing over and over in her mind. 

“There’s one more curse,” said Moody, taking another spider out of the jar on his desk. “The Cruciatus Curse.”

The class visibly braced themselves. Only a handful didn’t seem to know or understand what was coming. They would soon find out.

“ _Crucio_ ,” Moody intoned softly, and the spider on his desk began jerking and twitching, rolling from side to side, moving spasmodically. As the class watched, the spider began to shudder and jerk more violently.

The spider made no sound, but even Kyuubi could tell that if it could have, it would have been screaming.

Abruptly Moody lowered his wand, and the spider’s legs relaxed, although it was left trembling in the aftermath of the spell.

“Pain,” said Moody, his voice soft, but perfectly audible in the tense silence. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse... that one was very popular in the last war, too.”

Moody went on to explain why he had chosen to show the class the curses, talking about the importance of knowing what they were up against if the worst came to the worst, but Kyuubi barely paid attention.

She was an ancient being of malice and destruction, and yet... seeing the Killing Curse and Cruciatus Curses performed in front of her had caused some niggling sense of... not quite horror, but close. Kyuubi had always known what terrible things humans would do to one another, and yet, now that she was human in body, it seemed far more unsettling than before.

As the class finished, and everyone poured out of the classroom, glad to get away from Moody, some of the students were discussing the display of Unforgiveable Curses in hushed voices.

Kyuubi could hear some of the others talking.

“Did you see... I mean, the way it just _died_... imagine the sense of power that must give...” Zabini was saying to Malfoy and Parkinson, his voice reverent.

Kyuubi deliberately tripped him as she went past, kicked him hard in the groin as he went down, and went stomping on her way.

Many of the other students were already at lunch in the Great Hall. Kyuubi could see Granger sitting at the Gryffindor table. She stalked over.

The Gryffindors saw her coming, and Longbottom hastily left his seat next to Granger for one further down the table. Kyuubi flopped into the vacated seat.

“We just had our first class with Moody, and now I understand why you were so upset yesterday,” she told Granger, who didn’t bother to tell her to go back to her own table. There were a lot of things Granger didn’t bother trying to make Kyuubi do, anymore. After being friends with her for the last few years, Granger had become a bit more relaxed about obeying the rules.

At Kyuubi’s words, Granger’s lips pursed, and she stabbed one of the slices of cold turkey on her plate with undue violence.

“I thought it was terrible,” said Granger fiercely. “To show us those spells – and poor Neville–” She glanced further down the table, where Longbottom was sitting, and lowered her voice. “He was pale and shaking, couldn’t even string a sentence together afterwards. I can’t blame him: it was _horrific_. And then everyone was talking and laughing about it, as though it was some kind of entertaining show...”

Granger glared down at her plate for a moment, then glanced sideways at Kyuubi with concern in her gaze.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I mean, considering...” She trailed off, but the implication was clear.

“I was reminded of my parents deaths in full technicolor, if that’s what you mean,” said Kyuubi. She eyed the slices of turkey sitting on Granger’s plate. They looked delicious.

Granger noticed, and pulled her plate to one side out of Kyuubi’s reach.

“Harriet, I love you dearly, but you are _not_ stealing my lunch.”

Kyuubi huffed, and looked around for the platter that Granger had served herself turkey from. It was a few places away, in the centre of the table. Kyuubi leaned across the table to serve herself some.

When she was done, Granger said, “So _are_ you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Kyuubi shoved a forkful of turkey into her mouth.

“Bottling up your feelings isn’t helpful, you know,” Granger chided.

Kyuubi tried to say, _I don’t have feelings_ , but it came out garbled thanks to her mouthful of food.

“Harriet, that’s disgusting,” said Granger severely. “And of course you have feelings.”

Kyuubi swallowed her food, and said firmly, “Only hatred and malice, Granger. I firmly deny the existence of any others.”

Granger rolled her eyes.

“Fine. Be that way,” she said, and Kyuubi continued to eat her lunch.

“I do think less of Professor Dumbledore for allowing Professor Moody to show us those curses,” Granger said, after a moment. “School is supposed to be a safe and supportive environment.”

Kyuubi outright laughed at that, ignoring Granger’s glare.

“And when has Hogwarts ever been safe _or_ supportive, Granger? This is the wizarding world. Everything is dangerous. The sooner students realise that, the safer they’ll be – and thanks to Moody’s demonstration, they’re likely to realise that sooner than they would otherwise.”

“I disagree,” said Granger, although she was frowning in consideration of Kyuubi’s point. “School is supposed to be a place of learning–”

“School is supposed to be a place that prepares you for the real world. Coddling students doesn’t do that.”

“You can’t tell me that you’re _happy_ Moody used the Killing Curse in front of you!” Granger snapped, abandoning tact.

Kyuubi glared.

“Of course not. I’m just saying that his reasoning for doing so is sound.”

Granger made a furious sound, and lapsed into angry silence. Kyuubi took this in stride. 

Finishing her lunch, Kyuubi flicked the end of Granger’s nose, said, “Later, Granger,” and loped back over to the Slytherin table while Granger shouted after her, “Don’t _do_ that!”

“The first idiot to extoll the virtues of the Unforgiveables in my presence is getting punched,” Kyuubi announced, taking a seat at the end of the long bench that ran parallel to the Slytherin table.

There was a sudden, suspiciously-timed silence.

“What’re Unforgiveables?” a first-year Slytherin asked curiously. Kyuubi gave her a toothy grin.

“Spells designed to control other people’s minds, trigger unimaginable pain, and cause instant death.”

The first-year shrank back, obviously regretting her question.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re like a fiend in human form?” said Parkinson.

“Thanks,” said Kyuubi, deeply pleased. Parkinson’s words clearly hadn’t been meant as a compliment, but considering that in a sense, Kyuubi really _was_ a fiend in human form, the words were unknowingly accurate. 

Parkinson grumbled something under her breath and turned up her nose, but Kyuubi frankly didn’t care what Parkinson thought of her, as long as the girl didn’t dare cross her.

Parkinson might be unkind, and had a tendency to laugh at the misfortunes of others, but she was smart enough to avoid openly antagonising Kyuubi.

In a way, Kyuubi had become a kind of litmus test of students’ worthiness of being in Slytherin: if they weren’t cunning and intelligent enough to avoid her wrath, then clearly, they weren’t worthy of being in Salazar’s house.

Kyuubi took a certain amount of pride in this status, even though most humans wouldn’t have considered it particularly complimentary in nature. But then, most humans weren’t actually bijuu trapped in human form.

Smiling darkly, in a way that made several of the nearest students shrink back, Kyuubi chuckled to herself.

* * *

Nearly a month later, the other schools participating in the Triwizard Tournament arrived at Hogwarts.

A number of Kyuubi’s fellow students went outside and waited for the foreign students’ arrival, but Kyuubi couldn’t have cared less. Instead, she stayed inside, sitting next to Granger at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, and waited for the other schools to arrive so that dinner would appear.

“Aren’t you even a little excited?” asked Granger, glancing wistfully towards the doors into the Entrance Hall, as though she wished that she too was waiting outside for the first glimpse of the representatives from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. But she stayed where she was, sitting next to Kyuubi.

“I’ll be excited when dinner arrives,” said Kyuubi, and Granger gave a snort, and shook her head.

“You’re terrible.”

“Always.”

Eventually, however, the Hogwarts students came trickling back into the Great Hall, and shortly after that the students from first Durmstrang, and then Beauxbatons entered the hall. Kyuubi didn’t pay much attention to the Durmstrang students in their dark, heavy robes and cloaks and furs, but when she glanced at the students from Beauxbatons, her attention was caught.

Leading the Beauxbatons contingent was a tall, stunningly-beautiful girl of about seventeen, with perfect features and hair that shone silvery-blonde in the firelight, long and shimmering. The girl’s expression was cool, perhaps a little disdainful; but that made her appear no less enchanting.

Kyuubi only realised she was staring when Granger elbowed her in the side and said, “Harriet, have you heard a word I’ve been saying?”

Kyuubi tore her gaze away from the blonde girl, Granger’s comment breaking the stunning effect of the girl’s beauty long enough for Kyuubi to realise that her staring hadn’t been entirely voluntary.

Kyuubi snarled. She _hated_ anything that affected her control over her faculties, and however unconscious that girl’s magical aura was, it was still affecting Kyuubi in a way she didn’t appreciate.

“It’s like a mild mind-control jutsu,” she growled under her breath.

“What is?” Granger was looking at Kyuubi with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

“The magical aura of that girl,” said Kyuubi, and then, because she wasn’t ignorant of the magical world, and the blonde girl’s perfect good looks and entrancing aura were too suspicious a combination to be anything else, Kyuubi added, “I think she’s at least part-Veela.”

“ _Oh_ ,” said Granger, in a tone that suggested enlightenment, even as Kyuubi’s gaze was momentarily pulled back across the hall, towards the blonde girl, before she stopped herself with an effort of will. “So you’re…”

When Kyuubi glanced Granger’s way, the other girl was staring at her in surprise, and some other emotion that Kyuubi couldn’t identify.

“I’m what?” Kyuubi asked, irritated.

But Granger looked as though she’d just discovered something new about Kyuubi, and didn’t know how to feel about it.

Kyuubi looked at her for a moment longer, but when Granger said nothing more, she turned her gaze to the head table, and waited expectantly.

Sure enough, the headmaster gave a short speech, and then dinner appeared.

For once, not all the dishes were traditional to the British Isles. Some of them were clearly foreign, even if Kyuubi wasn’t sure exactly what they were. The Dursleys had never had much variety in their diets, and what variety they did have never encompassed food from other cultures, aside from the occasional Chinese take-away or Dudley buying a curry when he was out on a trip to London with his mates.

There was a tomato-based, sort of soup dish with different kinds of shellfish in it. It smelled delicious, and Kyuubi eyed it with interest. After sniffing the delicate aroma for a moment or two, she decided to help herself.

The taste was exactly as delicious as it had smelled. Kyuubi let out a sound of appreciation.

“What _is_ this stuff?”

“Bouillabaisse,” said Granger. “It’s French.”

“It’s amazing,” Kyuubi said. Several blissful minutes passed, before Granger nudged Kyuubi. Kyuubi looked up from her bowl.

“What?”

“That Beauxbatons girl – she’s coming over here.”

Kyuubi looked over towards the Ravenclaw table, where the blonde girl had chosen to sit. Sure enough, she’d taken off her scarf and was walking towards the Gryffindor table. Kyuubi watched her approach with mild alarm and a vague sense of impending doom.

“Excuse me,” said the blonde Beauxbatons girl with a smile, in a heavy French accent. Her teeth were white and shone distractingly in the firelight. “Are you finished with the bouillabaisse?” 

Kyuubi stared up at the vision of angelic perfection and let out a strangled noise as very real fury conflicted with artificial feelings of starstruck adoration.

“I think she’s finished with it, yes,” said Granger. 

Kyuubi let out a growl, directing her gaze back towards the tureen of bouillabaisse.

“Or perhaps not,” Granger added calmly, without missing a beat.

“Fine, you can have it,” said Kyuubi ungraciously, without looking up at the girl, her eyes fixed on the tureen. “Even if it is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

The girl laughed.

“You should try real French bouillabaise,” she said, one part condescending, one part conspirational. “It is, as you English say, _the best._ ”

Kyuubi battled with herself.

“Thanks for the recommendation,” she finally answered. The girl smiled with a brilliant flash of teeth before picking up the bowl of bouillabaisse and walking away with it, back to the Ravenclaw table. Kyuubi did not watch her go. She kept her gaze fixed on the table, instead.

When she looked up, Granger was looking at her with a knowing expression. Even without knowing why Granger was looking at her like that, the expression rankled.

Kyuubi glowered, and went back to eating her bouillabaisse. She deliberately did not ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: please do not tell me that Kyuubi's name is Kurama, I know that now, but will not be changing it this far into the series. Additionally, please do not ask me to ship Kyuubi with characters other than Hermione. It says right there in the tags this is going to be Kyuubi/Hermione. If you don't like that, don't read this.
> 
> Edited to add: Also, I fixed the inconsistent use of 'Hermione' being referred to by her first name in this chapter. Kyuubi should now consistently call her Granger, as elsewhere.


	3. The Goblet of Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, all of you, for all of your wonderful comments! Sorry that updates are so sporadic on this - but here, have a chapter! :D

** Chapter Three **

After dinner, Dumbledore stood again, and gave another speech. Kyuubi tuned out as he introduced some unfamiliar faces at the head table – Ministry officials, apparently – but looked back at Dumbledore with interest when he finally said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mr Filch.”

The caretaker approached the headmaster, carrying a great wooden casket covered with jewels. This time, as Dumbledore spoke, Kyuubi listened.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess – their daring – their powers of deduction – and of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

Kyuubi glanced around. The students from the three different schools were hanging on his every word.

“As you know, three champions compete in the Tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector… the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped three times on the lid of the casket, which opened slowly. Dumbledore removed from it a large, roughly-hewn wooden cup. What made the cup remarkable were the dancing, blue-white flames which filled it.

As everyone stared at the Goblet of Fire, Dumbledore laid out the conditions of entry into the Tournament. Students had exactly twenty-four hours in which to place their name into the Goblet; anyone younger than seventeen would be unable to enter. Should the Goblet select a student, they would be bound to compete no matter what, as placing their name in the Goblet constituted a binding magical contract.

As the students were dismissed and sent to their common rooms, Kyuubi joined the rest of the Slytherins. 

“I can’t believe that only seventeen year olds are allowed to enter,” Malfoy was saying to Zabini. “It’s so unfair.”

“I completely agree,” said Kyuubi from behind them. Both boys looked around. Kyuubi gave a smirk. “Depriving me of a chance to see you die painfully in front of hundreds of people truly is unfair.”

Malfoy turned pink and glared, but didn’t dare do anything that Kyuubi might count as provocation.Several years of having Kyuubi as a housemate had done wonders for his survival instincts and sense of caution, even if he still thought far too much of himself.

Kyuubi jogged a bit to catch up to Flint, who still wore the furious, devastated look he’d had ever since he’d heard that the inter-house Quidditch Cup was cancelled… but underneath that was a kind of thoughtful calculation, as though he was turning something over in his head despite his fury.

“Are you going to try and enter the Tournament?” Kyuubi asked, popping up by his elbow.

Flint glanced at her.

“What’s it to you, Potter?”

Kyuubi shrugged, and smiled with all her teeth.

“I think it’d be amusing to see you representing the school, that’s all.”

At that Flint chuckled, some of his anger and devastation melting away in temporary amusement.

“What, because I stand for everything the other Houses love to hate?”

Kyuubi grinned.

“Exactly.”

“You just want to see the bloodshed, don’t you,” said Flint, who knew Kyuubi fairly well by now, after several years of having her on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Kyuubi’s Quidditch strategies were _savage_.

“You know me so well.” Kyuubi wasn’t at all abashed at being caught out. 

Flint’s smile faded, and he looked thoughtful.

“I’ll think about it, Potter. Now go bother someone else.”

Kyuubi gave him a fox-like smile, and bounded off to the common room.

The next day, Halloween, the question of who would be the champion for Hogwarts was all that anyone was talking about. Kyuubi several times had to tell people to shut up, irritated by the constant discussions of who best represented the values of the school.

Personally, Kyuubi thought it would be hilarious if Flint _was_ chosen as champion. She was pretty certain that the other Houses would start a riot, if he was – and possibly some of the teachers as well, because their opinions of the Slytherin students had never been as impartial as they’d pretended. But then, Kyuubi would be the first to admit that a large number of the Slytherins were a pretty nasty bunch: they were bigoted and spiteful and refused to pay their debts. 

Well, maybe not that last one, at least where Kyuubi was concerned; ever since Kyuubi had made it clear how she treated people who wouldn’t pay her the money she was owed, people tended to be pretty prompt about giving it to her. The only downside was that no one would play cards against her anymore, and especially not when the card game in question was poker. (Kyuubi’s evil grin tended to unsettle the other players, particularly as it _never shifted_ during the game.)

That night was the Halloween feast. Normally people took their time over their meal during the feast, enjoying the many different dishes, but tonight everyone bolted down their food, looking forward to the moment when the Tournament champions would be announced. Well, everyone except Kyuubi, that was: while she wanted to find out who the Hogwarts champion would be like everyone else did, she also liked to enjoy her food – particularly as they’d brought out the bouillabaisse again, and because Kyuubi was sitting at the Slytherin table, no one showed up to take it away. 

“How do you even eat that much?” Parkinson asked, watching Kyuubi in a strange mixture of disgust and envy.

Kyuubi shrugged, and grinned.

“Exercise,” she said, and watched as Parkinson made a face. Still grinning, she doubled down on her efforts to eat the entire tureen of bouillabaisse.

Finally dinner was over, and a hush fell as Dumbledore stood.

“Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” he said. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber where they will be receiving their first instructions.” 

With a wave of his wand, all the candles in the hall went out, leaving everyone sitting in near-complete darkness.

As though on cue, as Dumbledore finished speaking, the flames inside the Goblet of Fire turned red, and sparks began to fly from it. The next second, a tongue of flame shot into the air, and a charred piece of paper was ejected. Dumbledore caught it easily.

The entire hall waited with bated breath.

“The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum.”

The staff and students burst into applause and cheers. One of the Durmstrang students sitting at the other end of the Slytherin table stood up, and began the long walk up to the head table. Kyuubi blinked.

“Wait, _the_ Viktor Krum?”

“Have you been living under a rock, Potter?” asked one of the seventh years. “He’s been sitting at this table since yesterday.”

The faintest tendril of killing intent began to emanate from Kyuubi. It was enough for the seventh year to lose her look of superiority and shut up, wary of making Kyuubi annoyed.

Krum made his way past the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber. Everyone waited for the next champion’s name to come out of the Goblet.

There was another spike of flame, and a piece of parchment fluttered through the air, once again to be caught by Dumbledore.

“The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour.”

This time, as the hall erupted into shouting and clapping, the blonde part-Veela girl got to her feet at the Gryffindor table, smiled an enrapturing smile, and began making her way towards the head table, all graceful, swaying steps.

Kyuubi blinked and shook her head, and looked fixedly at the table in front of her until the cheering died down again, and Delacour was gone.

The next name came shooting out of the Goblet, and was caught by Dumbledore.

“The champion for Hogwarts is Cedric Diggory.”

Kyuubi groaned as the tall, popular Hufflepuff got to his feet, while the rest of the Hufflepuffs screamed and stomped their feet. It wasn’t that she had any more of a problem with Diggory than she had with most people; it was just that Diggory was so… improbably _nice_. 

“Bloody goody-two-shoes Hufflepuff,” Flint muttered, sounding disappointed.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called out, amid the din. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real–”

Dumbledore stopped talking, because the Goblet of Fire had turned red a fourth time.

A few seconds later yet another piece of parchment shot out of the Goblet, and Dumbledore caught it. He stared down at it for a long time, brow furrowed, before he cleared his throat, and said into the silence:

“Harriet Potter.”

Kyuubi was aware of shocked and envious faces turning towards her.

“ _What?_ ” she bellowed, shooting to her feet, uncaring of the fact that her voice was far over acceptable volume levels.

Dumbledore was looking at her, and there was no twinkle in his eyes, for once.

“Miss Potter, if you would please–”

Kyuubi whirled, turning to search nearby faces, looking for any that looked suspiciously guilty or satisfied.

“ _Which of you bastards put my name in the Goblet?_ ” she roared, fists clenched, killing intent leaking from her like water through a sieve.

“Miss Potter!” Dumbledore’s words were like a whip cracking, swift and sharp. Kyuubi glared at him. “If you would please enter the next chamber, as instructed.”

Kyuubi glared around at the sea of staring faces. She couldn’t see anyone who looked like they’d put her name in. The most likely culprit would have been Malfoy, but he was staring at her with a look of jealous fury, as though Kyuubi had won something he desperately coveted.

Kyuubi let out a snarl, and stalked up past the head table and through the door into the small chamber where the champions were supposed to go.

The other champions glanced up as Kyuubi stormed in as a maelstrom of wrath.

“Potter?” Diggory said, appearing alarmed. The other two looked varying degrees of shaken as they felt Kyuubi’s killing intent.

“Apparently I’m the second Hogwarts champion,” Kyuubi growled.

The other three champions blinked.

“The _second_ champion?” Diggory repeated.

“You are joking, yes?” said Delacour.

“I wish.” Kyuubi threw herself down into one of the armchairs near the fire, and crossed her arms. “I was looking forward to having a nice quiet school year in which I got to watch a group of schoolchildren risk life and limb for the sake of fame and fortune. I _did not want_ to be one of them!”

Just then, the Ministry officials and the heads of the various school came pouring into the room, their voices loud and agitated – right up until they were hit by Kyuubi’s killer intent, and fell suddenly silent.

Dumbledore coughed, slightly more inured to the effect Kyuubi’s killing intent had than the others, to whom it was a new (and highly unpleasant) experience.

“Mis Potter, perhaps you could, er, tone down your displeasure?” he suggested.

Kyuubi glared at them all.

“I’m stuck in this stupid Tournament, required by a magically binding contract to risk life and limb for no other reason than other people’s entertainment, and you want me to tone it down?”

Dumbledore sent her a look not unlike the one Granger often gave her.

“I would appreciate it.”

Grudgingly, Kyuubi reeled her killing intent back in until it was more bearable for the other occupants of the room. 

The moment they could all breathe freely again, Delacour said, “Madame Maxime! How can it be that this girl is also going to compete?”

The headmistress of Beauxbatons drew herself up, and said, “I should like to know that myself, Dumbledore.” 

The headmaster of Durmstrang chimed in then, agreeing with the Beauxbatons headmistress, and the next minute there was an argument going on.

“Hogwarts cannot have two champions–”

“ _C’est impossible_ –”

Kyuubi rolled her eyes and sank down into the soft comfort of the armchair, closign her eyes and listening to the argument with half an ear.

“This is most irregular–”

“A chance many would die for–”

“Perhaps someone’s hoping Potter _is_ going to die for it,” a new voice cut in, silencing the other occupants of the room. Kyuubi opened her eyes to see Moody stomping his way into the room.

There was a tense silence.

Then the argument started up again, this time with the Durmstrang headmaster insulting Moody. The other champions were standing around, looking uncomfortable at being witness to the argument, but clearly they didn’t dare interrupt the adults.

Kyuubi decided she’d had enough. Killing intent began winding its way outwards, and the argument stopped as wide-eyed, wary glances were sent her way.

“You,” said Kyuubi, pointing at the two Ministry officlials. “Ministry goons.” There was spluttering from the blonde one at her words, but the buttoned-up one only gave her a vaguely vacant look. “How do I get out of this wretched tournament?”

The buttoned-up Ministry official blinked slowly. 

“You can’t,” said the Ministry official. “The entry of your name into the Goblet constitutes a binding magical contract. You cannot forfeit. The contract demands that you compete.”

Kyuubi’s killing intent rose again, but this time she didn’t even try to control it. The people around her began sweating nervously as she got to her feet.

“You’re telling me someone entered me in this competition against my will, and _I’m_ the one who can’t get out of it?”

“Correct,” said the Ministry official, looking strangely unaffected by Kyuubi’s ire.

Dumbledore coughed.

“Miss Potter–”

“And what happens if I tell the Goblet to go screw itself?”

“ _Miss Potter_.” This time Dumbledore’s tone was reprimanding. Kyuubi ignored him, too busy pinning the Ministry official to the spot with her glare.

“Potentially,” said the Ministry official, and then seemed to lose himself for a moment before picking up the thread of the conversation again. “Potentially, you could lose your magic. Or simply die. No one has ever tried to withdraw from the Tournament, before. The outcome of doing so is unknown.”

“Well, that’s just _peachy_ ,” said Kyuubi. She paused. “Would destroying the Goblet do the same thing?”

Several people made strangled sounds of horror at the thought of destroying such a precious artefact, but the Ministry official simply said, “Most likely.”

Kyuubi took a deep breath. It didn’t help very much.

“Fine, then. I’ll compete in this stupid tournament. But the moment I discover who entered my name, I’m going to present them with their own spleen. Now if you’ll _excuse me_ –”

She stormed out of the room with a snarl on her face. Instead of heading for the Slytherin common room, she crossed the empty Great Hall, went out through the Entry Hall and stomped out into the cool night air.

Without pause, she began heading for the Forbidden Forest – she’d heard that there was a colony of acromantulas living there, somewhere. Killing some of them would be a nice outlet for Kyuubi’s rage and frustration.

She might have no control over the stupid Triwizard Tournament, but this – _this_ she had control over.

* * *

The next morning, heads turned as Kyuubi walked into the Great Hall. People shied away from her as she went past. Maybe it was the fact that Kyuubi’s smile was murderously cheerful. Or perhaps it was the fact that she was covered in acromantula ichor. Either way, the other students gave her a wide berth as she made her way up to the Gryffindor table.

“Harriet, why are you covered in – whatever that is?” asked Granger, her nose wrinkling, as Kyuubi sank down onto the seat next to her with a happy sigh.

“Acromantula ichor.”

“Acromantula _what?”_ said Granger, and then looked mildly horrified. _“_ Harriet, please tell me you weren’t off fighting acromantulas before breakfast! Where would you even _find_ an acromantula at Hogwarts?!”

Kyuubi gave a lazy smile, amused by Granger’s consternation.

“The Forbidden Forest, of course.”

“The Forbidden Forest,” Granger repeated. “Of course that seemed like a good idea to you.”

Kyuubi continued smiling.

Granger sighed, as though Kyuubi was a lost cause.

“Well, that explains why you weren’t there to train with me this morning, if you were off battling giant spiders.” She sent Kyuubi a sideways glance. “You didn’t seem very happy about your name coming out of the Goblet, last night. Are they going to force you to compete?”

Kyuubi’s mood soured.

“Apparently it’s a binding magical contract,” she said. “No one seems to quite know what will happen if I drop out of the tournament, so I don’t really have a choice about competing.”

Granger scowled.

“Even though you didn’t put your name in?”

“How do you know I didn’t put my name in?” demanded Kyuubi, mostly because she felt like being contrary.

Granger only gave a snort, and rolled her eyes.

“Because you’d much rather sit around watching other people risk their lives than risk your own for the sake of fame and fortune – as far as I can tell, you’ve never cared much about either. You’re far more likely to find the Triwizard Tournament a waste of time.”

It was a perfect summation of Kyuubi’s feelings. Kyuubi grinned.

“See, this is why you’re my favourite.”

Granger ignored the compliment in favour of sending Kyuubi a searching look.

“Harriet,” she said, and hesitated. “With your name appearing out of the Goblet... do you think you’re in danger?”

“Probably,” said Kyuubi, and smiled with all her teeth. “But if whoever is responsible for putting my name in thinks I’m going to be an easy target… then they’re going to be unpleasantly surprised.”


	4. Meeting the Press

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, all of you who are still sticking with this story! Here is another chapter.

** Chapter Four **

Everywhere that Kyuubi went, in the days that followed, heads turned and voices whispered when she walked past. It was like the first few weeks of first year, all over again. Actually, no – with the way the Hufflepuffs kept glaring at her for stealing Diggory’s thunder, it was more like second year, before everyone had worked out that Kyuubi _wasn’t_ the Heir of Slytherin. 

The Gryffindors, of course, supported Diggory on principle, the principle being that they would never willingly support Slytherins in anything; the Ravenclaws, while they grudgingly admitted that Kyuubi took top place in every subject she was enrolled in (except for Arithmancy, where she was beaten out by Granger, and Potions), most of them thought that as far as temperament went, Kyuubi couldn’t be a more unsuitable representative of the school.

The only ones who seemed at all pleased that Kyuubi was a Hogwarts champion were, of course, the other Slytherins. There were exceptions – like Malfoy, who was patently jealous of Kyuubi’s position as Hogwarts’ second Champion – but overall, the Slytherins stood behind her _en masse_. 

Kyuubi wasn’t used to this at all: before now, the only reason why the other Slytherins would have stood behind her was to more easily stab her in the back. 

But within days of Kyuubi’s name being ejected from the Goblet of Fire, the other Slytherins could be spotted with green badges pinned to their robes. Each badge said, _SUPPORT POTTER – THE BEST HOGWARTS CHAMPION._ It was all very baffling.

This led to retaliation from the Hufflepuffs, who created yellow badges which said, _SUPPORT DIGGORY – THE **REAL** HOGWARTS CHAMPION_. The ‘real’ was emphasised through bolder type than the rest of the badge. The Gryffindors began wearing the yellow badges as well. 

Kyuubi honestly didn’t care, right up until the day she joined Granger for breakfast and found her wearing one of the green _SUPPORT POTTER_ badges. 

Kyuubi cast an eye over the other Gryffindors as she sat next to Granger, some of whom were wearing yellow badges and glaring at Granger – presumably for a lack of House solidarity.

“You’re not going to be very popular, wearing that,” said Kyuubi idly.

Granger huffed.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Harriet, I’m already not very popular. You’re the only friend I’ve got, and I’m not about to stop supporting you just because other people might not like my decision. For all that Professor McGonagall said our House would be like our family, it really isn’t. Besides… I’m used to people not liking me.”

Kyuubi went still, while the other Gryffindors looked a little uncomfortable at Granger’s frank assessment. 

“I like you,” Longbottom protested, from further down the table. He turned red when everyone looked at him, and sank down into his chair. But he didn’t try to take the words back.

“Thank you, Neville,” said Granger briskly. “But let’s face it, most people in Gryffindor think I’m an irritating know-it-all.”

“Only because they themselves know nothing,” said Kyuubi, and her voice emerged an octave lower than it should have. “Granger, has anyone been giving you a hard time?”

To Kyuubi’s surprise, Granger gave a smile.

“One or two people have tried,” she admitted. “But I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, Harriet. You needn’t worry.”

Kyuubi eyed Granger a moment longer, but her aura was mostly amused, tinged by a hint of exasperation. There was nothing for Kyuubi to feel concerned about.

“I’m not _worried_ ,” said Kyuubi. “It’s just… you’re my friend.”

Granger’s expression softened.

“You’re my friend, too. And that’s why I’m wearing this badge. Anyone who doesn’t like it can, as you would put it, _suck it up_. I’m a dab hand at curses, you know.” 

The fact that Granger also knew a few neat jutsus went unmentioned.

Kyuubi grinned.

“I’ve been a bad influence on you, haven’t I?”

“Undoubtedly.” Granger’s voice was prim, but her eyes were laughing. Kyuubi elbowed her for it, before reaching out to serve herself some bacon and eggs for breakfast.

Most of the day passed without incident. Kyuubi had a free period before dinner, while everyone else was taking Potions. She made her way to the library to read up on the history of the Triwizard Tournament. 

What she found was not reassuring: a significant percentage of champions had died during the previous tournaments. All the same, Kyuubi felt her interest in the ridiculous competition rising as she read about some of the tasks from the earlier Tournaments. It sounded like some of them might actually be a _challenge_ – and a challenge where a more violent approach was necessary.

Kyuubi had her nose in a book, absorbed in her reading, when she became aware of someone hovering near her table. She looked up, and growled. It was the Creevey kid. He’d learned to stop taking creepy photographs of her after she’d first dangled, and then dropped him out a window after he’d photographed her leaving one of the girls’ bathrooms. To be fair, she’d only dropped him from the second floor, and the kid had landed on a patch of thick grass… but he’d been properly circumspect around her ever since.

“What?”

Creevey gulped. 

“Mr Bagman wants you – he wants all the champions upstairs. I think they want to take photographs…”

For a moment Kyuubi contemplated going back to her book and ignoring the summons, but decided that she might as well go see what was going on.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

They head through Hogwarts’ labyrinth of corridors, and finally emerge into an unused classroom. Krum was standing a short distance away from Delacour and Diggory in one part of the room, while at the other end the blonde Ministry official was talking to a blonde woman in magenta robes. Neither the Ministry official nor the blonde woman noticed Kyuubi walking in, but the other champions did.

“Here,” said Creevey, and immediately bolted back down the corridor. Kyuubi watched him go, amused, before moving to join the other champions. 

All three of them were watching her.

“What did you do to that poor boy?” asked Delacour, her expression one of curiosity.

“Dropped him out a window.”

“ _Potter_ ,” said Diggory in horror, at the same moment as Krum asked, “What did he do?”

“Took pictures of me emerging from the girls’ lavatory. It was the fifth time he’d taken a photo of me without my permission. I was annoyed.”

“ _C’est terrible_ ,” said Delacour firmly. “I do not blame you. Had someone taken a photograph of me in such circumstances, I would have done far worse.”

Diggory eyed both Kyuubi and Delacour uneasily, but Krum wore an expression of approval.Kyuubi gave Delacour a grin that was only partly prompted by the girl’s Veela allure.

“How old was he at the time?” asked Diggory.

“First year, so eleven, I suppose.”

Diggory still looked horrified, but Krum rumbled, “Old enough to know better.”

“Indeed,” said Delacour.

Kyuubi blinked at the realisation that she and other champions (minus Diggory) were actually getting along. Kyuubi _never_ got along with people, aside from Granger. It was a novel feeling.

“Harriet Potter!”

Kyuubi turned to see the blonde Ministry official looking at her, a little nervously. 

“I see that you’ve joined us for the Wand Weighing Ceremony…”

“Wand Weighing Ceremony?” Kyuubi repeated.

“We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they’re you’re most important tools in the tasks ahead. The expert’s upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there’s going to be a photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter, she’s doing a small piece on the Tournament for the Daily Prophet…”

“Maybe not that small, Ludo,” said Rita Skeeter, looking at Kyuubi with an avaricious gleam in her eyes. “I wonder if I could have a little word with Harriet before we start? The youngest champion, you know… to add a bit of colour?”

“Certainly!” said Bagman. “That is – if Harriet has no objections?”

Kyuubi was opening her mouth to make it clear that she _very much_ had objections when Skeeter tried to grab her by the arm. Kyuubi dodged away from her grasp. When Skeeter tried to grab her a second time, her smile slipping a little, Kyuubi snarled.

“ _Don’t touch me_ ,” she said, in a growl that was far too low to have come from the throat of a fourteen year old girl. “Try it again and I’ll break your arm.”

Skeeter’s face went blank with surprise. Possibly no one had threatened to break her bones before. A moment later she regained her fixed smile.

“My, my, Harriet – isn’t that rather violent of you?”

Kyuubi bared her teeth.

“ _Yes_.”

“These reporters,” Kyuubi heard Delacour said loudly to Diggory. “They have no manners, _n’est-ce pas?”_

“Er…”

Skeeter’s fixed smile soured slightly. Clearly Kyuubi wasn’t the only one who had overheard the comment.

“Now, now, Harriet… it’s just a few questions…”

“I said _no_.” Kyuubi released a sliver of killing intent.

Skeeter stumbled back a step, losing the rest of the smile and then– 

Skeeter whipped out an acid-green quill and some parchment. The quill hovered above the top piece of parchment, the nib just touching it.

Kyuubi blinked. That… was not a normal reaction.

“Harriet,” said Skeeter, and the smile was still gone, but her eyes were glittering. “Tell me – what’s behind that devastatingly dark aura of yours?”

At the same moment as Skeeter spoke, the acid-green quill began scribbling on the top piece of parchment. Kyuubi peered at the parchment, easily reading the upside-down words.

_ Small and striking, with a visage remarkably like that of her late mother’s, Harriet Potter possesses an innocent façade which is nothing but that, a façade: masking the dark power which lurks within her deceptively dainty frame. _

“ _Dainty?_ ” Kyuubi said, in outrage. She grabbed the quill out of the air, almost faster than any human eye could track, and snapped it in half. “I’m not _dainty_.”

Skeeter’s mouth thinned, her eyes widening in shock and anger. She opened her mouth–

“Ah, Rita,” said Dumbledore as he entered the room, eyes twinkling. The wand-maker from Diagon Alley, Ollivander, was with him. “You’re not harassing the Champions, I hope?”

Rita eyed Kyuubi malevolently for a moment – a malevolence which Kyuubi more than returned – before transferring her gaze to the Headmaster.

Kyuubi tuned out the conversation which followed. Soon after, Ollivander began testing each Champion’s wand. Kyuubi watched and waited in mild boredom. Finally, it was her turn.

“Miss Potter,” said Ollivander, his eyes gleaming. “Ah, yes. How well I remember.”

Kyuubi scowled at the reminder of the conversation where Ollivander had divulged that her wand shared a connection with Voldemort’s. Everyone else in the room looked curious. But Ollivander said no more, merely holding out a hand for Kyuubi’s wand. 

She handed it over with some reluctance. It wasn’t as though she was defenceless, even without it – none of this _your wand is your life_ business most wizards seemed to embrace – but her wand was _hers_ , and she hated to part with it.

An attitude she held towards most of what she’d claimed as hers, really.

Ollivander examined the wand carefully, before giving it a wave. A fountain of wine shot out of it. He handed it back to Kyuubi, announcing that it was in perfect condition.

After that, Skeeter and the photographer she’d brought with her insisted on photos for the Daily Prophet. Kyuubi grudgingly allowed herself to be pulled into frame, and bared her teeth just as the flash went off.

She’d planned to go down to dinner early, once the whole rigmarole was over and done with, but as she escaped into the hallway, someone called her name.

“Harriet Potter!”

It was Delacour, Krum not far behind her, Diggory trailing behind them. Kyuubi waited, wondering what they wanted.

Delacour smiled as she reached Kyuubi. The smile revealed the existence of dimples as well as perfect teeth. 

“What do you want?” Kyuubi asked, once again battling between adoration and rage.

“You are a very unusual person,” said Delacour, in a voice that made her words sound like a compliment – and not like she was just being diplomatic, either. “I find myself intrigued.”

Kyuubi stared at her in angry bewilderment.

“What?” 

Delacour’s megawatt smile didn’t fade one iota.

“We should be try and be friends, don’t you think?”

That took Kyuubi a moment to process. Once she did–

“ _What_ ,” said Kyuubi again, her voice flat, only this time it wasn’t really a question.

Delacour only gave a light, tinkling laugh. Diggory stood looking awkward. Krum just watched Kyuubi and Delacour, his expression thoughtful.

Somehow – Kyuubi was never sure, later, exactly how it had happened – Kyuubi ended up going to dinner with her arm in Delacour’s, with Krum and Diggory only a step or so behind them. Kyuubi, Delacour and Krum took a seat at the Slytherin table. Diggory said his goodbyes, and went to sit at the Hufflepuff table where he belonged.

Kyuubi stared at where Krum sat in the seat to her right, eating his dinner. Then slowly, Kyuubi’s gaze moved to Delacour, seated on her left. Delacour was talking animatedly about why she’d chosen to enter the Tournament, in-between eating delicate spoonfuls of bouillabaisse.

Kyuubi gave up on understanding what was happening, and focused on eating her own bouillabaisse. It was delicious.

She tuned back in to what Delacour was saying, just in time to catch the end of a question.

“–you have any family of your own?” Delacour asked.

Excellent, Kyuubi knew _exactly_ how to kill this conversation.

“My family are dead.”

With anyone else, this tactic would have worked. But Delacour only looked deeply sympathetic.

“Ah, yes, of course. I should not have forgotten. It must be very lonely for you. Why, I do not know what I would have done without the support of my parents and sister and my aunts and cousins. The very thought of it sends a pang through my heart. You must be a strong person to withstand their loss.”

Kyuubi blinked.

“…well, yes, I suppose.”

Delacour smiled again, and changed the subject.

“So tell me, Harriet. What is it like, being a student here at Hogwarts?”

Kyuubi only shrugged.

“Boring, most of the time. Occasionally it’s enlivened by episodes of mortal danger.”

To Kyuubi’s right, Krum’s eyebrows furrowed. He looked as though he was trying to work out whether Kyuubi was kidding around, or meant what she said.

Delacour stared at Kyuubi for a moment.

“You are… not joking,” she said with certainty. 

Kyuubi shook her head, and smiled, the expression sharp.

“It’s survival of the fittest at its finest, here at Hogwarts. It’s good preparation for later life.”

“It is _not_ ,” said Granger, sliding into the seat next to Krum’s. He blinked at her sudden appearance beside him, but she paid him no notice, too busy refuting Kyuubi’s words. “Really, Harriet. ‘Overwhelming trauma’ is hardly the same thing as ‘good preparation for later life.’ It’s far more likely to _inhibit_ someone’s later survival, as you well know.”

Kyuubi grinned, but only said, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, if you can sit at the Gryffindor table all the time, I see no reason why I can’t join you at the Slytherin table every once in a while,” said Granger. “Besides, you’re willingly interacting with people who aren’t me, so I wanted to make sure the sky wasn’t falling.”

Kyuubi glared. Sitting between them Krum smiled slightly, apparently amused.

“Who said it was _willingly?_ ” Kyuubi grumbled.

Granger sent Kyuubi an ‘itwas obvious, _obviously’_ look.

“Well, neither of them are bleeding profusely, so that was my first hint,” said Granger in a dry tone, and reached out to help herself to some of the bouillabaisse.

Delacour, who had been watching Kyuubi and Granger interact with interest, spoke up.

“You two are friends?”

“Oh, yes,” said Granger. “Since first year. We were competing for the top position in every class, you see, and we started out as rivals – but, well, at some point the rivalry became more of a friendship.”

“But how interesting,” said Delacour, and she sounded as though she meant it. She smiled at Granger. “This rivalry of yours – who was the winner?”

Granger laughed.

“Oh, we don’t keep score anymore, although if we did, usually it would be Harriet. She holds the top position in every class except for Arithmancy, where I’m the top student – and except for Potions, of course.”

Krum, who had been listening to Granger alongside Kyuubi and Delacour, frowned.

“Why ‘of course?’”

“Well, Harriet isn’t exactly… _welcome_ in Potions class,” said Granger, with unnecessary delicacy. “Not since first year.”

“I emptied a full cauldron over the professor’s head,” said Kyuubi, with a smirk.

Krum’s eyebrows slowly rose. Delacour rested her chin on her hand and gazed at Kyuubi as though she were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. The part of Kyuubi that was enthralled by Delacour’s Veela allure preened under the attention, and the rest of Kyuubi resisted the urge to smack her forehead against the table-top. 

She’d been exposed to Delacour’s allure a number of times now, and to her relief, it _seemed_ to be getting a little easier to deal with, each time. Kyuubi could have come up with a number of possible reasons why – but honestly, as long as the trend continued, she would be… ‘happy’ was the wrong term to use, but ‘mildly less enraged,’ was more or less accurate.

“ _Quelle horreur_ ,” said Delacour, still staring in fascination. “But why?”

Any amusement Kyuubi was feeling at the memory of emptying the potion over Snape vanished.

“He insulted my parents,” she said curtly. “My _dead_ parents.”

“Ah, but how boorish!” Delacour looked indignant on Kyuubi’s behalf. 

In spite of herself, a tendril of warmth unfurled in Kyuubi’s heart towards Delacour. She didn’t do friendship, unless it was Granger – who was actually worth the effort involved – but maybe… maybe Delacour wasn’t too intolerable, despite her damned allure. 

The moment the thought was out there, Kyuubi wished she could take it back. Ugh, _sentiment_. What was wrong with her?

Kyuubi stomped ruthlessly on that tendril of warmth, blotting it out of existence.

She didn’t _need_ more friends, more _human connections_. Sometimes Kyuubi worried that all this time spent in a human body was eroding away at everything that made her _Kyuubi_ – turning her soft and vulnerable and dependent on social contact.

Resolutely ignoring the tiny voice that told her that she’d _always_ needed social contact and just hadn’t _had any_ for centuries upon centuries, Kyuubi went back to eating her meal. 

Delacour seemed to notice her shift in mood, and after that, addressed most of her remarks to Granger and Krum, although she still smiled at Kyuubi every now and then to avoid making her feel excluded.

Kyuubi glowered into her bouillabaisse, and wondered when she’d begun to _care_.


End file.
